


Decay

by Yobotica



Series: It's not the destination, it's the journey [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, More angst, it's my especialty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yobotica/pseuds/Yobotica
Summary: Written for the Day 3 prompt in the Assassin's Creed Fandom Events 2018... event.Prompt: Modern-day Brotherhood/OC'sShort scenes from Shaun's perspective during the first two games.The second work in a series dedicated to Desmond.





	Decay

**Author's Note:**

> As all the others, beta'd by the incredible [Caisar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caisar).

Shaun knew he hadn't been nice to the new guy. Desmond. That was the whole _point_.

They were, each of them, here to do their jobs, all of which revolved around Desmond just laying there. 

Did he even know how lucky he was, having all three of them, here just for him? He acted like it was the world's biggest inconvenience, when Shaun would have preferred literally anyone else, someone who might recognize the gravity of their situation, and act like it. He hardly had to do anything right now, anyway! 

He and Rebecca had been pulled from a project building both the devices and the algorithm to detect and intercept Templar transmissions. And they're both still working on that when they can, while Desmond lays about in a machine, basically dreaming. 

And Lucy? She'd been undercover, and blew her years-long cover for this, for Desmond. 

Desmond, while Clay, one of their own, and Shaun's... _friend..._ had... He died in the Templars' care, but William decided to throw that whole project away when it was Desmond, who gets to just lay there. 

So maybe he didn't bring out the kid gloves for the guy. It wasn't like he was actually a tiny child, though hopefully, he would grow up. 

He could, theoretically. That was the plan, anyways, wasn't it? Maybe then, _he_ would even apologize to _them._

========

It wasn't as easy as all that, of course. Shaun had known about the Bleeding Effect; they'd all been briefed on it. They'd all been banking on it.

Frankly, he'd been upset that Desmond would just stumble into abilities that Shaun had toiled for, had actually bled for. All while dreaming. 

That's what Shaun had thought then. He wasn't thinking that now. 

It was a rough few weeks, but Shaun respected Desmond a little bit, now that he'd bothered to pay attention. Just a little bit, mind you. Enough to blunt his sharp tongue a time or two, that's all. 

Lucy had mentioned the little bleeds she'd witnessed, the confusion that grew worse after Desmond snapped out of it. How they lasted longer and longer, how deep he was and how hard it was to wake him. 

How he was not always bleeding one person. 

Shaun realized he definitely needed to pay more attention when he noticed Desmond wasn't in his sleeping bag, but was, in fact, out of bed, and staring at the statue of Altaïr in the alcove, hands flicking restlessly, though there were no blades on his arms to release. 

He hadn't heard Desmond get up at all. 

It was best not to startle him, if he could avoid it. Anything that led to confusion could lead to violence in a Bleed. 

So when he stood, it wasn't as quietly as he could have. Desmond turned to him, then looked around, seeing something that wasn't real, judging by the way his eyes flicked over nothing before returning, looking at Shaun directly. 

He approached, half-smiling; the restless flicking of his hands had stopped. 

_Is it really you?_ , he asked, in Italian so removed from what Shaun was familiar with that even with the recent practice, it took a moment for him to process. It didn't help that he'd been startled; that hadn't been Desmond's voice. 

Before he could reply, though, Desmond darted forward and grabbed Shaun's hand. He started talking, something that started with _Let me show you..._ and then spoke so fast Shaun could only catch a word here or there. He pulled Shaun, gently, towards the statue, and started talking about it, describing something, and then a question at the end, a _what do you think?_

Shaun wasn't sure how to reply. Of the three on his team, he was the only one who spoke Italian with any fluency, and even he wasn't sure how to respond. Desmond looked at him expectantly, then with a little confusion. 

_I'm sorry_ , he tried, _I didn't understand all of that._

Desmond looked at him, confused, then a little sad. Then he looked around, at the world only he could see, then back at Shaun. He shook his head slightly and swallowed, and just like that Desmond was back. 

He let go of Shaun's hand immediately when he realized he'd been holding it, swallowing again and looking around, clearly seeing the room that was really around him. 

"Sorry," he said. "I was... I thought I was dreaming, but looks like I wasn't, not really." 

Shaun frowned, though it wasn't _at_ Desmond. "Does this happen often?" It hadn't happened yet on his watches, at least, as far as he knew. 

Clearly, he hadn't paid enough attention. 

"No, no," Desmond said with a laugh, pulling away, and though his body language seemed to convey relaxation, Shaun could hear the tension in his voice, see it in his eyes. "This is the first time I've woken up from sleeping like this. It was calm, almost happy, so I'm glad it was this memory." 

"I'm telling Lucy in the morning," he said, and Desmond nodded. 

"Of course, I mean, I was going to, but yeah. I think she'd like your perspective. Says recording everything will be helpful if anyone else has to do this," he said, with a strange smile. "Anyways, I'm uh, I'm going to go back to sleep. Long day of laying about tomorrow." 

Shaun recoiled slightly, because he knew that was a dig at him. He'd said it out loud, once - well, more than once, but only once where Desmond could hear him - and well, point taken. 

"Sure, of course," he said, moving out of the way, since he was blocking Desmond's direct path to his sleeping bag. 

It was only much, much later that he realized the response had been intentional on Desmond's part, since not much else would have shut him down so effectively. 

========

It was a week later that he was on watch again (since he was doing double duty assisting other teams, he didn't generally have night watch as often as the other two).

Lucy had just woken him up, so he checked on the sleeping Desmond before heading to the bathroom, then the kitchen to turn on the kettle for tea. 

When he was returning to the main room not a few minutes later, Desmond wasn't in his bed roll. 

_Of course._

He heard the water splash in the little basin in their bathroom, and softly made his way towards it. Before he even reached the curtained off area, he heard Desmond's voice. 

"You're Desmond Miles, the year is 2012, and you're currently in Monteriggioni, which hasn't been inhabited in like, a hundred years," he said, hardly louder than a whisper. "You own a motorcycle, you're a bartender, not an Assassin. Your name is Desmond Miles." 

It went on for a few moments, interspersed with deep, shaky breaths. He didn't bother hiding himself when Desmond exited, though; Desmond knew he was being watched. 

Desmond just sighed when he saw him. 

"This one was a dream," he said, holding up his hands like Shaun would think he was dangerous, or something. 

"Good to know, for my report. Ezio, then?" 

Desmond nodded. "Yeah, this time," he agreed absently, which, well, that was news to Shaun. He'd asked, but Lucy had told him there hadn't been any Altaïr bleeds since the warehouse. 

He wasn't entirely sure on where 'dreams' fell, though. He certainly didn't believe Desmond that it was 'only' a dream. That's not how the Animus worked. 

"Good. Well, you'd best rest up. We're almost done, near as I can tell, so we'll probably have a field trip tomorrow," he said, injecting as much cheer as he could into his voice. It wasn't much - he wasn't exactly a cheerful guy - but Desmond quirked a smile all the same, and nodded. 

"Yeah," he agreed, then wandered off to his bedroll. He tossed and turned a bit before finally falling asleep again. Shaun updated the database while he was keeping watch, since he didn't assist with any other teams while he was on watch duty (and if he needed to, for an emergency, he'd wake one of the others). 

He couldn't help but think of Desmond as he worked - he was the only one who'd really see these entries, after all, and they had to serve as a reminder of who Desmond was, when he was. 

Shaun had taken the duty seriously because he takes all of his duties seriously, but he hadn't truly understood how serious it really was, how much of himself Desmond might really lose. 

Lucy told them the payoff was worth the risk, and he'd agreed, at the beginning. Getting a fully trained Assassin from a runaway who'd wasted his life bartending of all things? Then to learn they might actually get their hands on an Apple? Yes, it had seemed very much worth it. 

But maybe he'd sold Desmond short. Desmond had sounded _wrecked_ in he bathroom - hadn't sounded certain of his words even by the time he'd left the bathroom. That wasn't a man who was growing in his own skills as he learned from his ancestor. 

That was a man losing himself to the memories of long-dead men.

Shaun hadn't been able to bring himself to read even Abstergo's files on Clay, and maybe he wouldn't ever, but even he couldn't ignore that it had to look just like this. 

Maybe he'd apologize to Desmond for being such a tit. Maybe, after their field trip tomorrow, once they see where Ezio hid the Apple.


End file.
